


Clumsy Hands

by digitalsoop



Category: Free!
Genre: F/M, Gen, Post Series, family fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 21:22:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3544235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/digitalsoop/pseuds/digitalsoop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Minoru spends most of the day wondering if he’s inherited Makoto’s clumsy hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clumsy Hands

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for Mother's Day last year. It's almost Mother's day again, so I might as well post it.

A light breeze came in through the small window of a bedroom; it teased the curtains, which twisted and jumped, then slid across the floor to a bed covered in a purple quilt; it brushed skin and ruffled hair, disappearing through the gap under the door with the last of its strength and leaving behind goose bumps and the tangy scent of mown grass. Two children sneezed and dutifully chanted—one playful and one dour—that someone was talking about the other.

Playful, because no one could be saying something about his seven-year-old sister that was worth worrying about; dour, because whoever was talking about her thirteen-year-old brother was overshadowed by a hairbrush being yanked through the matted tangles at the back of her head. “Why can’t Mama do it?”

"Because," he solemnly held a hank of hair in his hand, "Mama is still having a weekend with Papa. They won’t be back until dinner time." The knots in front of him were formidable. He tugged the brush through as gradually as possible, the bristles slowly scraping against his palm, but still the room was filled with protests and whimpers.  
He had been putting forth a valiant effort for nearly ten minutes, and her hair was nowhere near the silky, shiny copper it should have been. Every morning Mama tamed the tangles with time to spare on ponytails, and braids, and bows, and without a single complaint or yelp. Papa had always said that no one was better with hair than Mama. His large, heavy hand would carefully ruffle Minoru’s hair and he’d laugh. “Hopefully you didn’t get my clumsy hands along with my looks.”

It had never made sense to Minoru. Papa had very careful hands; hands that could clean cuts and wrap bandages and wipe away tears; hands that cradled kittens, and birds, and baby sisters. But they couldn’t manage calligraphy, and though they were suited to ruffling hair they certainly couldn’t braid it, or whip up a ponytail. With tangled hair in one hand and a hair brush clenched in the other, he wondered how he should break the news of his clumsy hands to Papa.

Maiha yanked the brush from his hand. “I’ll brush it. You put in my bow.”

Not willing to risk hurting Maiha in an attempt to take the brush back—or in an attempt to finish the task—he sat back on her bed and observed. Sometimes she used two hands to hold the brush, dragging it down and out. Other times she tilted her head and used one hand to skim the brush across the ends of her hair. The only thing that didn’t change was her scowl. “See? You do it like this. Now it’s perfect.”

All of that effort had not resulted in a shining copper, but a mass of wild roots that had been fluffed up and out. It was no different than when Mama rubbed their heads with a towel after bath time. But she was so puffed up with pride that Minoru happily suggested they top off her perfection with one of her many bows. “Which one should we use?”

Her hands instantly went to her hips. “The one Mama got me!”

The large, blue bow was attached to a barrette, and had been a surprise for Maiha’s first day of school. She had spent the entire day proudly marching around and announcing that it was the same color as one Mama had used to wear. When she had marched out of earshot, Mama admitted that hers had been much smaller, and not quite a bow. “There’s plenty of time for her to wear subtle bows when she’s older.”

As it turned out barrettes were something else that clumsy hands couldn’t make heads or tails of. After some pain on both sides, the bow was clipped in off center and too low, but Maiha wouldn’t sit around to let him fix it. She darted out of her bedroom as soon as he had muttered Oops, telling Uncle Haru that she was ready to buy presents. Grandma laughed, a giggle just like Mama’s, and Uncle Haru made a skeptical sound in the back of his throat. To be safe, Minoru picked up the hairbrush before he joined them. Maiha obediently turned around under Uncle Haru’s slim hands, all the while insisting that her hair was perfect; the bow being slipped out of her hair went unnoticed.

Minoru handed over the brush and watched his uncle set to work. The wild roots were slowly tucked and straightened back into place, and Grandma sighed about all the difficult mornings brushing hair of two wild children.

"I’m not wild. I’m a lady." Maiha winced once when the brush snagged in a tangle near the back of her neck, but the brush was set aside and the bow snapped into its proper place before he could be scolded. Uncle Haru’s hands were certainly not clumsy, and he used those steady hands to usher both children out of the house.

His quiet demeanor usually kept Maiha subdued, but seven years of mother’s days with Papa had taught her that ice cream was involved. She was already petitioning for two scoops of chocolate with sprinkles, scampering and skipping as much as Uncle Haru’s firm grip on her hand would allow. Minoru was normally the rule keeper when their parents weren’t around, but Maiha’s request sounded so good that he politely requested the same.

"We’re not going by the ice cream shop today."

Minoru’s brow immediately furrowed. “But aren’t we getting flowers?”

"Yeah, aren’t we getting flowers for Mama?"

"We are. But not the bouquet your Papa always buys."

Maiha wasn’t convinced. “But Mama likes those flowers.”

"That’s true. But your Papa wanted to do something different this year, and he put you two in charge."

Minoru pondered over this responsibility with a very solemn expression. Maiha jumped and shook Uncle Haru’s arm. “We’re in charge, we’re in charge!”

Though Minoru fired off questions without pause, he couldn’t pry any more details about their mysterious responsibility from Uncle Haru. Unbothered by the most annoying and persistent tactics a person could apply and particularly skilled at evading and shutting down questions, he was a very effective secret-keeper.

”We’re going on the train!” Maiha jigged and bounced, her bow a bright blue fish flopping against the back of her head. 

Uncle Haru withstood his arm nearly being pulled out of its socket with a calm, far off gaze. “Yeah.”

Minoru squinted and raised an eyebrow. “The train to Gram and Grandpa’s house.”

"And my house." Uncle Haru may have been evasive when it came to questions but he wasn’t a liar, and he could never bring himself to ignore anything either of the siblings said.

"But you said we weren’t going to your house."

"That’s right."

"So we’re going to Gram and Grandpa’s."

Maiha peeked around Uncle Haru’s leg. “You’ll know when we get off the train, brother!” Uncle Haru smiled, Minoru pouted, and Maiha dragged both of them onto the train.

The ride passed in relative silence; knowing his questions wouldn’t be answered Minoru didn’t have much to say, and with a stoic uncle and a sister completely taken with staring out the window and exclaiming observations for her own entertainment, there wasn’t much room for conversation.

Gram and Grandpa were Uncle Haru and Rin’s neighbors, so even when they were off the train and heading into the neighborhood there was still no telling where they were actually going. Maiha had already decided that she was going to visit which ever house they weren’t going to, even if there wouldn’t be anyone home at their Uncle’s.

"I wanna visit all the cats that are around the houses."

"We’re supposed to be getting a present for Mama, not a friend for Suki."

"A new cat could be a present for Mama."

"That’s more of a gift for Papa." Uncle Haru stepped in before Maiha’s foot stomping turned into an argument. "Either way, you’ll be too busy to go between houses."

Minoru turned his critical gaze once again to his uncle. “Busy doing what?”

But Uncle Haru slipped right by, lifting Maiha up a stone step with one sure hand. “You’ll see.”

They walked, hopped, and jumped up the stone steps right to Gram and Grandpa’s. Gram was waiting for them in the yard with the warm smile that Papa had, and a table covered in flowers and vases filled with water. “Are you ready to make your presents?”

Minoru approached with some reservation, unlike Maiha who hugged Gram and ran laps around the table in record time, exclaiming over all the flowers. Gram brought him into the usual long hug, squeezing him tight and patting his head. But he was focused on the flowers, visible over her arm.

"They’re not carnations."

Gram’s smile widened, but she didn’t laugh. “That’s right. These bouquets will really surprise Mama.”

"But where did you get all of them?"

"Well, some of them Grandpa and I bought. Others were given to me by a very kind neighbor with a very lovely garden." A few gentle nudges brought Minoru to the table. He and Gram knelt down across from Haru and Maiha. "Do you want to arrange them yourselves?"

"Huh? Arrange them?" Maiha paused in her careful examination of the vase in front of her. "But they’re already matched."

Minoru shook his head. “Not like that, Maiha. You arrange them in the vase so they look pretty. It’s how they make bouquets.”

She pursed her lips and began gathering flowers into her arms; bright daisies and roses and sprigs of thin, wiry stems covered in tiny flowers. She scooped up a handful of the wiry stemmed, tiny flowers that were covered in glitter, glancing at Minoru in warning.

Don’t even think of using these in your bouquet. 

He didn’t have much interest in glittery flowers. Instead he turned his attention to Uncle Haru and Gram. They chose their flowers with care, lifting them with delicate fingers and looking at the table in consideration before choosing another. Clearly the proper way to go about flower arranging, Minoru gently lifted up a lily. Its white petals drooped and curled, revealing light pink in its middle. It was soft and pretty, a perfect choice, and he happily placed it inside his vase.

The lily just as happily tipped to the side, heedless of his distress. “It’s dying!”

"It’s too tall," Uncle Haru corrected. He picked up a pair of shears and the lily. He considered the stem for a moment, then snipped the stem at an angle. Minoru’s distress didn’t wane, even though the lily did not tip when it was placed back in the vase.

"Doesn’t that hurt the flower?"

He was reassured with a solemn shake of the head that the flower wasn’t at all bothered. Embarrassed that he had disturbed the peace of floral arrangement, Minoru continued his work in determined silence. After being shown how to properly use pruning shears, he cut each stem of his flowers to the same length, and decided it was best to choose an even number of each flower. Four soft lilies, four white carnations, four pink roses, four bundles of white baby’s breath were each placed into the vase in groups.

The vase was filled with a pleasant ball of pink and white, and he regarded his work with a chest full of pride. Maybe his hands weren’t as clumsy as he had thought. 

Across the table Maiha’s vase was not considerate of color, pattern or height. Red, yellow, purple and orange were placed together with only a few smatterings of pink and white between them. She had even taken it upon herself to add tall, fern like stems, stuck in like antennae. Noticing that he was giving her vase a bit of a critical eye, she decided to return the favor. “Brother, yours looks like a cloud.”

"Yours looks like candy."

"Well, I know Mama will love them both very much," Gram hummed.

***

Minoru and Maiha watched as their vases were carefully placed in Mama and Papa’s bedroom. Mama explained that it would make her feel happy if she could see them first thing in the morning. “It will make Papa happy, too.”

"What about Papa’s flowers?"

At the mention of them Papa’s shoulders hunched, and he carefully crossed his arms across his chest and laughed. The tall vase held a bouquet that rivaled Maiha’s; roses stuck out varying heights and strangely placed, curly leaves flopped over the edges of the vase, as if trying to draw attention to the uneven bow tied around it.

"Well, they’ll be fine in the kitchen in case I need a laugh," Mama decided.


End file.
